5 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



j UNITED STATES OK AMERICA 



J 



HOPEFULLY WAITING, 



*3 



AND 



OTHER VERSES. 



ANSON DPWRANDOLPH. 






(^|/ NEW YORK: 
CHARLES SCRIBNER AND COMPANY, 
654 Broadway. 
1867. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by 

Charles Scribner and Company, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of 

New York. 

"3 4 / X 1 




RIVERSmjLCAMBRIDGE : 

STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY 

H. 0. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY. 



/ desire that the Public should kno<w, my dear Scribner, 
that this little 'volume has been made at your request ; and 
that but for you I 'would have been content ivith such circu- 
lation as these verses have already had in the newspapers 
and magazines of our country. 

A. D. F. R. 

New York, September, 1866 



CONTENTS. 

♦ 

PAGE 

Hopefully Waiting . . . . . . . 7 

Bridges . . . . . . • . . 10 

Rich, though Poor . . • . . . -13 

To 16 

Earth to Earth 17 

Little Bessie 20 

The Canary Bird . 24 

Far Off, yet Near 25 

By Faith and Patience . . . . . -27 

To F 28 

Song . . . . . . . . .29 

Sabbath Morning 31 

Happiest Days 33 

The New Gift 36 

Loss and Gain 37 

Good-Night 39 

The Master's Invitation .... 40 



vi Contents. 



TAGE 



The Story of Margaret Brown ... 43 

Less and More 48 

Fairy Tales 50 

The Color-Sergeant ...... 55 

"The Married State is a State of Sorrow" 59 

To F. F. R 62 

Little Lucy, and the Song She sung '. . 65 

The Absent Lord 68 

Hymn for the Dedication of a Church . . 71 

Sojourning, as at an Inn 73 

Our Baby 76 

The Wild Flower 79 

Song 80 

The Loving Master 82 

The Happy Pilgrim 83 

A Household Lamentation 85 

A Sunbeam and a Shadow . . ■ . . 88 

No Room for Him 90 

Master, is it I ? . . . . . . . 93 

Trust Absolute 94 

Longings ....... 97 

" That Passeth Understanding" .... 99 



POEMS. 



HOPEFULLY WAITING. 

" Blessed are they that are Homesick, for they shall come at 
last to the Father's House," — Heinrich Stilling. 

VTOT as you meant, O learned man and good, 
*** ^ Do I accept thy words of hope and rest ; 

God knowing all, knows what for me is best, 
And gives me what I need, not what he could, 

Nor always as I would ! 
I shall go to the Father's House and see 

Him and the Elder Brother face to face, 
What day or hour I know not. Let me be 

Steadfast in work, and earnest in the race, 



8 Hopefully Waiting. 

Not as a homesick child, who all day long 
Whines at its play, and seldom speaks in song. 

If for a time some loved one goes away, 
And leaves us our appointed work to do, 
Can we to him or to ourselves be true, 

In mourning his departure day by day, 
And so our work delay ? 

Nay, if we love and honor, we shall make 
The absence brief by doing well our task, 

Not for ourselves, but for the dear one's sake ; 
And at his coming only of him ask 

Approval of the work, which most was done, 

Not for ourselves, but our beloved one ! 

Our Father's House, I know, is broad and grand ; 

In it how many, many mansions are ! 

And far beyond the light of sun or star, 
Four little ones of mine through that fair land 

Are walking hand in hand ! 
Think you I love not, or that I forget 

These of my loins ? Still this world is fair, 



Hopefully Waiting. 9 

And I am singing while my eyes are wet 

With weeping in this balmy summer air ; 
Yet I 'm not homesick, and the children here 
Have need of me, and so my way is clear ! 

I would be joyful as my days go by, 

Counting God's mercies to me. He who bore 
Life's heaviest cross is mine for evermore ; 

And I, who wait his coming, shall not I 
On his sure word rely ? 

So if sometimes the way be rough, and sleep 
Be heavy for the grief he sends to me, 

Or at my waking I would only weep, 

Let me be mindful that these things must be, 

To work his blessed will until he come, 

And take my hand and lead me safely home. 



BRIDGES. 

I. 
A BRIDGE within my heart, 
"* ^ Known as the " Bridge of Sighs," 
That stretches from life's sunny part 
To where its darkness lies. 

And when upon this bridge I stand, 

To watch the tides below, 
How spread the shadows on the land, — 

How dark the waters grow ! 

Then as they wind their way along 

To sorrow's bitter sea, 
How mournful is the spirit-song 

That upward floats to me. 

A song that breathes of blessings dead, 
Of joys no longer known, 



Bridges. 1 1 

And pleasures gone, — their distant tread 
Now to an echo grown. 

And hearing thus, beleaguering fears 

Soon shut the present out ; 
The good but in the past appears, 

The future full of doubt. 

Oh, often then doth deeper grow 

The night that round me lies ; 
I would that life had run its flow, 

Or never found its rise. 

ii. 
A Bridge within my heart, 

Known as the Bridge of Faith ; 
It spans by a mysterious art 

The streams of life and death. 

And when upon this bridge I stand, 

To watch the tides below, 
How glorious looks the sunny land, — 

How clear the waters flow ! 



1 2 Bridges. 

Then as they wind their way along 

And to a distant sea, 
I listen to the angel-song 

That sweetly floats to me. 

A song of blessings never sere, 
Of love beyond compare \ 

And life so vexed and troublous here, 
So calm and perfect there. 

And hearing thus, a peace divine 
Soon shuts each sorrow out, 

And all is hopeful and benign, 
Where all was fear and doubt. 

Oh, ever then will brighter grow 
The light that round me lies ; 

I see from life's beclouded flow 
A crystal stream arise ! 



RICH, THOUGH POOR. 

VTO rood of land in all the earth, 

No ships upon the sea, 
Nor treasures rare of gold or gems 

Do any keep for me : 
As yesterday I wrought for bread, 

So must I toil to-day ; 
Yet some are not so rich as I, 

Nor I so poor as they. 

On yonder tree the sunlight falls, 

The robin 's on the bough ; 
Still I can hear a merrier note 

Than he is warbling now : 
He 9 s but an Arab of the sky, 

And never lingers long ; 
But this o'erruns the livelong year 

With music and with song. 



14 Rich, though Poor. 

Come, gather round me, merry ones, 

And here as I sit down, 
With shouts of laughter on me place 

A mimic regal crown. 
Say, childless King, would I accept 

Your armies and domain, 
Or e'en your crown, and never feel 

These little hands again ? 

There 's more of honor in their touch, 

And blessing unto me, 
Than kingdom unto kingdom joined, 

Or navies on the sea : 
So greater gifts by them are brought 

Than Sheba's Queen did bring 
To him who at Jerusalem 

Was born to be a king. 

Look at my crown and then at yours, 
Look in my heart and thine -, 

How do our jewels now compare, — 
The earthly and divine ? 



Rich, though Poor. 15 

Hold up your diamonds to the light, 

Emerald and amethyst ; 
They 're nothing to these love-lit eyes, 

Those lips so often kissed ! 

" O noblest Roman of them all ! " 

That mother good and wise, 
Who pointed to her little ones, 

The jewels of her eyes : 
Four sparkle in my own to-day, 

Two deck a sinless brow ; 
How grow my riches at the thought 

Of those in glory now ! 

And still no rood of all the earth, 

No ships upon the sea, 
No treasures rare of gold or gems 

Are safely kept for me : 
Yet I am rich — myself a king ! 

And here is my domain ; 
Which only God shall take away 

To give me back again ! 



TO . 

XTAY, not so, dearest ! Look into my eyes, 
^ ^ Giving the search its clearest, amplest range ; 
Look in my heart, and see if there arise 
In all its palpitations, new or strange, 
One pulse of doubt, or smallest sign of change ! 
We have come hence the common road along, 
And ours the common lot -> for we have seen 
Some lights go out, and darkness fill the way, 
And even then, our hearts so full of song, 
Sang to each other, as we passed between 
The storm and cloud-drifts of the waiting day. 
Think you such love could its dear object wrong ? 
I have thy answer as I give thee mine ; 
Yet all I can bestow, how mean compared with 
thine. 



EARTH TO EARTH. 

T TERE are flowers, dead and gone, 
A A All their sweetness is withdrawn ; 
Look upon these faded leaves, 
Whereunto no beauty cleaves ; 
Look upon these withered stems, 
They have lost their gold and gems ; 
Back to thee, O Earth, I give 
What for me no more doth live. 

Other flowers of mine thou hast, 
Upon which a death hath passed ; 
Sweeter flowers than these were they, 
But their life has sped away, 
And for them a bed was made 
By the sexton's busy spade ; 
Back to thee, O Earth, I gave 
What I could not spare or save ! 



1 8 Earth to Earth. 

Still rich flowers thou hast of mine^ 
And not long shall they be thine ; 
Sweetest sweets are soonest gone. 
What is best is first withdrawn ; 
In the sunlight^ in the shade^ 
Some will sicken^ some shall fade ; 
One by one I shall receive^ 
Caring not how much you grieve. 

This, O Earth ! thy voice to me, 
Softly saith and mournfully, 
While my heart is sore with pain, 
Sitting with the dead again ; 
While a mist is in my eyes, 
And the night about me lies ; 
Now thy voice of solemn tone 
Speaketh of thy realm alone, 

While a better Voice I hear, 
Falling from another sphere ; 
Earth ! thou shalt not always keep 
These of mine that with thee sleep ; 



Earth to Earth. 19 

What I give thee back to-day, 
Keep, and welcome, keep for aye ; 
But the others are not thine, 
They are God's, and will be mine, 
When upon thy pulseless breast 
I shall lay me down to rest. 



LITTLE BESSIE, 

AND THE WAY IN WHICH SHE FELL ASLEEP. 

T TUG me closer, closer, Mother, 

Put your arms around me tight ; 
I am cold and tired, Mother, 

And I feel so strange to-night! 
Something hurts me here, dear Mother, 

Like a stone upon my\breast : 
Oh, I wonder, wonder, Mother, 

Why it is I cannot rest. 

All the day, while you were working, 

As I lay upon my bed, 
I was trying to be patient, 

And to think of what you said, — 
How the kind and blessed Jesus 

Loves his lambs to watch and keep, 



Little Bessie. 21 

And I wished he 'd come and take me 
In his arms, that I might sleep. 

Just before the lamp was lighted, 

Just before the children came, 
While the room was very quiet, 

I heard some one call my name. 
All at once the window opened : 

In a field were lambs and sheep ; 
Some from out a brook were drinking, 

Some were lying fast asleep. 

But I could not see the Saviour, 

Though I strained my eyes to see ; 
And I wondered, if he saw me, 

Would he speak to such as me \ 
In a moment I was looking 

On a world so bright and fair, 
Which was full of little children, 

And they seemed so happy there. 

They were singing, oh how sweetly ! 
Sweeter songs I never heard ; 



22 Little Bessie. 

They were singing sweeter, Mother, 
Than our little yellow bird ; 

And while I my breath was holding, 
One, so bright, upon me smiled, 

And I knew it must be Jesus, 

When he said, Cl Come here, my child. 

" Come up here, my little Bessie, 

Come up here and live with me, 
Where the children never suffer, 

But are happier than you see;" 
Then I thought of all you 'd told me 

Of that bright and happy land ; 
I was going when you called me, 

When you came and kissed my hand. 

And at first I felt so sorry 

You had called me ; I would go ; 

Oh to sleep, and never suffer ; — 
Mother, don't be crying so! 

Hug me closer, closer, Mother, 
Put your arms around me tight ; 



Little Bessie. 23 

Oh how much I love you, Mother ; 
And I feel so strange to-night ! 

And the mother pressed her closer 

To her overburdened breast ; 
On the heart so near to breaking 

Lay the heart so near its rest ; 
At the solemn hour of midnight. 

In the darkness calm and deep, 
Lying on her Mother's bosom, 

Little Bessie fell asleep ! 



THE CANARY BIRD. 

T)LITHELY thy morning song breaks on my ear 
'^ Here in the city's dust, O gentle bird - y 
And now the dank o'ercrowded atmosphere, 
The ceaseless noise that everywhere is heard, 
Is lightened by thy music. While it springs 
A wish for woods and fields where flowers be, 
It drops into my heart from viewless wings 
Something far better than their fragrancy. 
Thou art a patient, life-long prisoner, 
Shut from the world, and in thy solitude 
Sighing for freedom, yet the almoner 
To me of song with cheerfulness imbued ; 
I listen, and my restlesS heart grows calm, 
And I with thee lift up contentment's psalm. 



FAR OFF, YET NEAR. 

/^ BLESSED Lord! 

^^^ Once more, as at the opening of the day, 

I read thy Word ; 
And now, in all I read, I hear thee say, 
" To those who love I will be ever near -> " 
And yet while this I hear, 
To me, O Lord, thou seemest far away. 

Thou Sovereign One, 
Greater than mightiest kings, can it be fear, 

Or blinding sun 
Made by thy glory, so if thou art here, 
I cannot see thee ; yet this Word declares 
That whoso loves, and bears 
Thy Holy Name, shall have thee ever near ! 



26 Far Off, yet Near. 

I bear thy name ; 
That love, dear Lord, have I not long confessed ? 

Thy love 's the same 
As when, like John, I leaned upon thy breast, 
And knew I loved ; oh, which of us has changed ? 
Am I from thee estranged ? 

Lord, thou changest not : I know the rest ! 

My doubting heart 
Trembles with its own weakness, and afraid 

I dwell apart 
From thee, on whom alone my hope is stayed : 

1 would, and yet I do not know thy will 
And perfect love ; am still 

Trusting myself, to be by self betrayed. 

O blessed Lord ! 
Far off, yet near, on me new grace bestow, 

As on thy Word 
I go to meet thee ; even now, I know 
Thou nearer art than when my quest began ; 
One cry, and thy feet ran 
To meet me ; Lord, I will not let thee go ! 



BY FAITH AND PATIENCE. 

TT^EEP on sowing: 

•*■** God will cause the seeds to grow 

Faster than your knowing ; 
Nothing e'er is sown in vain, 

If, his voice obeying, 
You look upward for the rain, 

And falter not in praying. 

Keep on praying : 
In the brightest, darkest day, 

Still his voice obeying ; 
Never from the gates of prayer 

Turn with doubting sorrow, 
For the One who standeth there 

May answer you to-morrow ! 



TO F . 

VTO poet e'er hath sung a song to her, 

No painter from her radiant features stole 
Glimpses of beauty, such as fill the soul 
And captive hold the dreamy worshiper. 
The gay saloon hath never been astir 
At her incoming presence. She doth pass 
Unnoticed through the world, save by the few 
Such as make search for flowers amid the grass, 
In shaded nooks half hidden from the view. 
Known only as a patient wife and true, 
She rules with quiet grace her small domain ; 
She homage hath the queenliest never knew, 
And is content each duty to pursue, 
That crowns with daily blessings all her reign. 



- 



SONG. 

/ Hp s HE flowers which blessed the early Spring, 

And crowned the Summer hours, 
Lie dead along the mountain slope, 

Or in their valley bowers ; 
So blessings on the Autumn sun, 

That nursed these buds for me : 
I bring them straight to thee, my love ; 

I give them all to thee ! 

The morning air was clear and warm, 

The evening ? s damp and chill, 
And some who oft are good and kind 

To-day have served me ill ; 
So blessings on the steadfast heart 

That knows no change to me : 
I find the sunlight here, my love, 

I left at morn with thee. 



30 Song. 

What if these buds shall ne'er unfold, 

Soon perish like the flowers ; 
Their fragrance evermore shall float 

About this home of ours \ 
So blessings on the heart that turns 

All things to joy for me : 
The World may have its way, my love, 

When I come back to thee ! 






SABBATH MORNING. 

/^ DAY of love and calm delight, 
^^ "The brightest of the seven" ; 
O precious foretaste of the rest 
And blessedness of heaven. 

The birds have sung since morning broke 
And yonder moon grew dim ; 

They never had so sweet a voice, 
Or sang a sweeter hymn. 

The river that at yester eve 

Dashed wildly on the shore, 
Moves calmly downward to the sea, 

That vexes it no more. 

Where'er I turn to hill or plain, 
Above me or around, 



32 Sabbath Morning. 

A quiet fills the outward world, 
Like that within me found. 



O blessed scene of peace and love, 
That seems to heaven akin, 

Is this a world of pain and death, 
Of sorrow and of sin ? 

Shall the sweet birds forget their song, 
And tempests sweep the river ? 

This blissful scene, my quiet heart, 
Remain unchanged forever ? 

The coming eve may bring the wind, 

The early morn the rain, 
And backward send the noisy world, 

To fill my heart again ! 

Come night of wind, or morn of rain, 

Or changes sad to see ; 
If, Lord, thou art my Refuge still, 

Why should they trouble me ? 



HAPPIEST DAYS. 

/ T^HEY tell us, Love, that you and I 

Our happiest days are seeing, 
While yet is shut from either's eye 

The changes of our being. 
Ah ! life they say 's a weary way, 

With less of joy than sorrow, — 
That where the sunlight falls to-day, 

There ? 11 be a shade to-morrow. 

If ours be love that will not bear 

The test of change and sorrow, 
And only deeper channels wear 

In passing to each morrow, 
Then better were it that to-day 

We fervently were praying, 
That all we have might pass away 

While we the words were saying. 
3 



34 Happiest Days, 

The heart has depths of bitterness, 

As well as depths of pleasure, 
And those who love, love not unless 

They both of these can measure ; 
There is a time — 't will surely come — 

When each this must discover, 
And woe if either then be dumb 

To that which moved the lover. 

There are some spots where each will fall, 

Where each will need sustaining \ 
And suffering is the lot of all, 

And is of God's ordainingo 
Then wherefore do our hearts unite 

In bonds that none can sever, 
If not to bless each changing light, 

And strengthen each endeavor ? 

Then while these happy days we bless, 

Let us no doubt be sowing ; 
God's mercy never will be less, 

Though he should change the showing. 



Happiest Days, 35 

Such be our faith, as on we tread, 

Each trusting and obeying, 
As two who by his hand are led, 

And hear what he is saying. 



THE NEW GIFT. 

/ | V W0 years ago our gracious God 

A To us a child did give, — 
A darling one now gone from us, 
With Christ the Lord to live. 

That gift, it opened in our hearts 

A spring unknown before ; 
And death — it sealed the fountain up, 

To open here no more. 

Now when our God, whose name be praised, 

Another child has given, 
Whose sunny face we often think 

Is like a face in heaven, 

We say that she can never fill 

The place so filled before ; 
While wondering why our loss should seem 

To make us love her more ! 



LOSS AND GAIN. 

T TOW sadly beats the heavy autumn rain ; 

"** A How mournful drives the wind among the 

trees 5 
Along the shore the weary sailor sees 
The waves roll in that send him out again ; 
The birds are restless in the scattered leaves ; 
The clouds move wildly each in massy fold, 
And all the outer world, or earth, or air, 
But yesterday so warm, so fair, 
Is changed, and in a night, to drear and cold. 

Now goes the golden autumn far away, 
Now nearer comes the winter to my door; 
And thus does Nature, working evermore, 
Create new life from changes and decay. 
O Christ! who in the hall of Pilate bore 



38 



Loss and Gain. 



For me the scourge and mocking \ for thy sake 

Fill up the daily loss in life of mine 

With thy life. So shall love divine 

Out of the changing the unchanging make. 



GOOD-NIGHT, 

f^* OOD-NIGHT ! a sweet voice laughing said -, 
^^ And by the hope within me born, 
I knew we only said good-night 
To meet again at morn. 

Good-night ! one time it softly said ; 

And by the heavy heart I bore, 
I knew full well we said Good-night, — 

Good-night, for evermore 

Ah, sweet it was to say Good-night, 
When morning could our joys restore \ 

What grief to part beneath the stars, 
And meet on earth no more ! 



THE MASTER'S INVITATION. 

T"\EAR Lord, thy table is outspread; 
-*-^ What other could such feast afford ? 
And thou art waiting at the head, 
But I am all unworthy, Lord ; 
Yet do I hear thee say, — 
(Was ever love so free ?) 
Come hither, son, to-day, 
And sit and sup with me. 

O Master ! I am full of doubt, 

My heart with sin and fear defiled ; 
Come thou, and cast the tempter out, 
And make me as a little child ; 
Methinks I hear thee say, — 
Come thou, at once, and see 
What love can take aivay, 
And what confer on thee. 



The Masters Invitation. 41 

ly Lord ! to thee I fain would go, 
Yet tarry now I know not why ; 
Sfeak, if to tell what well I know, 
\That none are half so vile as I. 
What do I hear thee say ? — 
Look) trembling one^ and see 
These tokens^ which to-day 
Tell what 1 did for thee. 

Naj. Lord ! I could not here forget 

*hat thou didst for my ransom give ; 
The\garden prayer, the bloody sweat, 
Al| this and more, that I might live, 
hear thee sadly say, — 
If this remembered be^ 
Xhy linger thus to-day? 

z hy doubt and question me ? 

Oh, love to angels all unknown ! 

I turrl from sin and self aside ; 
Thou ha\t the idol self o'erthrown, 

1 only fcee the crucified \ 



42 The Master s Invitation. 

I only hear thee say, — 
A feast is spread for thee 

On this and every day. 
If thou but follow me ! 



MARGARET BROWN. 



TTARD by the brook, beyond the town, 
■*■ ■* Where stands the leafless locust-tree, 
There is a cottage, old and brown, 
Which rearward looks upon the town, 
But faces to the sea. 

The walks with grass are overgrown, 
And weeds fill up the garden-bed ; 
The moss clings to the stepping-stone, 
And from the tree the birds have flown, 
Now that the tree is dead. 

Mid all these dreary signs without, 
And scarce a sound of life within, 



44 Margaret Brown. 

The passer stops and looks about, 
As half in fear and half in doubt 
Of what may here have been. 

Ah, 't is a simple tale and rare 

Of life the stranger cannot know, — 

There is a presence in the air, 

As if of angels watching there, 
Or passing to and fro. 

Here Margaret lives, u Old Margaret Brown," — 
Thus doth the clerk her name record, — 

With what is given by the town ; 

Nor notes what daily is sent down 
In blessings from the Lord. 

Here she was born and here was wed, 
Here grew her children by her side, 
Till one by one from her they fled, — 
And there they laid her husband dead, 
Brought shoreward by the tide. 



Margaret Brown. 45 

Thus blessings came, thus from her went, — 
God's love by sun and shadow shown ; 

You say a heart so torn and rent, 

With all its loving forces spent, 
Might harden into stone ? 

Ah, years did follow, all unblessed, — 

How bleak was all the world, — how dark ! 
Her wandering soul, in search of rest, 
Only the gloom and waste possessed, 
Nor found the only ark ! 

Oh, faithless soul that would not know, 
Who ever watched or went before ; 

And sought in all those waves of woe, 

In all their flood and overflow, 
To give thee peace once more. 



11. 



Oh, happy day, but all too brief, 

And night more precious still than day , 



46 Margaret Brown. 

When she obtained the dear relief, 
That left her still the sense of grief, 
But stole the sting away ! 

She sat in silence with her dead, 

When Jesus came and called her name ; 

One answering word, and fear and dread 

Went out, and unto her, instead, 
A holy quiet came. 

Oh change that did her soul astound ; 

The Lord had come and talked with her, 
And all her grief with comfort crow T ned \ 
She had once more the Master found, 

Beside the sepulchre. 

Long years have passed — poor, blind, and old, 
She waits until God's will is done ; 

And yet her closed eyes behold 

That world of glories manifold, 
And Jesus as the sun. 



Margaret Brown. 47 

What if the sea roar up the beach, 

The leafless tree the sound prolong ; 
Her soul its resting-place can reach, 
Still tune the common words of speech 
Into a thankful song. 

What if the stone no more be pressed 

By steps that woke a welcome sound ; 
Her loving heart is full of rest, — 
With her abides a heavenly guest, — 
The Lord whom she has found. 

And if the birds have spread the wing, 
The walk with grass be overgrown ; 

She seems to hear the downward ring 

Of songs, such as the angels sing, 
Where sorrow is unknown ! 

O world, with all thy pomp and pride, 
So poor, so full of doubt and fear ; 

Lo, Christ, with gifts to thee denied, 

Has every longing satisfied, 
And built his temple here ! 



LESS AND MORE. 

/ I v WO prayers, dear Lord, in one — 

A Give me both less and more : 
Less of th* impatient world, and more of thee ; 

Less of myself, and all that heretofore 
Made me to slip where ready feet do run, 

And held me back from where I fain would 

be, — 
Kept me, my Lord, from thee! 

All things which most I need 

Are thine: thou wilt bestow 
Both strength and shield and be my willing Guest ; 

Yet my weak heart takes up a broken reed, 
Thy rod and staff doth readily forego, 

And I, who might be rich, am poor, distressed, 

And seek but have not rest. 



Less and More. 49 

How long, O Lord, how long ? 

So have I cried of late, 
As though I knew not what I well do know : 

Come thou, Great Master Builder, and create 
Anew that which is thine; undo my wrong — 

Breathe on this waste, and life and health be- 
stow : 

Come, Lord, let it be so ! 

Let it be so, and then — 

What then ? My soul shall wait, 
And ever pray — all prayers, dear Lord in one — 

Thy will (?er mine in all this mortal state 
Hold regal sway. To thy commands, Amen ! 

Break from my waiting lips till work is done, 

And crown and glory won ! 



FAIRY TALES.* 

nr^HE picture of a little child 

That comes to us from o'er the sea 
Why hath it thus my heart beguiled, — 
Why such a charm for me ? 

Before it oft I stop and gaze, 
And pass the rarer pictures by, 

Until the shopman, in amaze, 
Would seem to ask me why. 

He does not know, nor need I tell, 
Where, in that face, a look I see 



* A picture by a foreign artist of a little child, seated and 
reading a large book. 



Fairy Tales. 51 

Of one, who for a while did dwell 
On earth to comfort me. 

The picture of a little child, — 

A book, a child, and nothing more ; 

And she to quiet reconciled 
By Fairy Tales of yore. 

What joy, what wonder on her face, 
And such as children only know ; 

And Art has caught each changeful grace, 
And will not let it go. 

O childish face ! thou art not mute, 

Thou giv'st my thought mysterious range \ 

Here in thy presence I compute 
A story sweet and strange ; 

The story of a little life, 

So brief, and yet withal so sweet ; 

'T would seem a dream, but for the strife 
That made the life complete. 



52 Fairy Tales. 

Thus many a time in days gone by, 
A child, who dwells with us no more, 

(How deep the shadows now that lie 
Where sunlight was before,) 

Would sit, a book within her hand, 
Her eye intent upon the page, 

As though she well did understand 
What did her sight engage. 

O blessed child ! I see thee still ! 

My heart o'erleaps the solemn years, 
And eyes thou once with light didst fill, 

Thou fillest now with tears. 

And yet through Sorrow's cloud and mist 
My eager sight is swift to run 

Through sapphire hues, and amethyst, 
And glory of the Sun ; 

Until thy face, with wondrous change, 
I, as in vision, clearly see ; 



Fairy Tales. 53 

O child of mine, marvel strange ! 
What might I learn of thee ! 

Two score of years, what have they brought 
Of knowledge to compare with thine ? 

The narrow reach of human thought, 
To that which is divine ! 

The mysteries of our mortal state, 
At which I shrink as they unfold ; 

Nor fear nor wonder can create 
In them who God behold ! 

Sweet child, not mine as heretofore, 

Still mine in glory yet to be ; 
Dear Lord, could I desire more 

Concerning her of thee ? 

O throbbing heart ! thy longings cease , 
Come, patient Lord, thy grace bestow, 

And turn this sorrow into peace, 
That shall more perfect grow. 



54 Fairy Tales. 

This picture of a little child, 

By one who dwells across the sea, 

Thus hath it oft my heart beguiled, 
And been a joy to me! 



THE COLOR-SERGEANT. 

'^7'OU say that in every battle 

No soldier was braver than he, 
As, aloft in the roar and the rattle 

He carried the Flag of the Free ? 
I knew, ah ! I knew he 'd ne'er falter, 

I could trust him, the dutiful boy -> 
My Robert was willful, — but Walter, 

Dear Walter, was ever a joy. 

And if he was true to his mother, 

Do you think he his trust would betray 
And give up his place to another, 

Or turn from the danger away ? 
He knew while afar he was straying, 

He felt in the thick of the fight, 
That at home his poor mother was praying 

For him and the cause of the Right ! 



56 The Co lor Sergeant. 

Tell me, comrade, who saw him when dying, 

What he said, what he did, if you can ; 
On the field in his agony lying, 

Did he suffer and die like a man ? 
Do you think he once wished he had never 

Borne arms for the Right and the True ? 
Nay, he shouted, " Our country forever ! " 

When he died he was praying for you ! 

my darling! my youngest and fairest, 
Whom I gathered so close to my breast ; 

1 called thee my dearest and rarest, 
And thou wert my purest and best ! 

I tell you, O friend ! as a mother, 
Whose full heart is breaking to-day, 

The Infinite Father — none other — 
Can know what He 's taken away. 

I thank you once more for your kindness, — 
For this lock of his bright auburn hair \ — 

Perhaps 't is the one I in blindness 
Last touched, as we parted just there! 



The Color-Sergeant. 57 

When he asked, through his tears, should he linger 

From duty, I answered him, Nay ; 
And he smiled, as he placed on my finger 

The ring I am wearing to-day. 

I watched him leap into that meadow : 

There a child he with others had played ; 
I saw him pass slowly the shadow 

Of the trees where his father was laid ; 
And there, where the road meets two others, 

Without turning he went on his way ; 
Once his face toward the foe, not his mother's 

Should unman him, or cause him delay. 

It may be that some day your duty 

Will carry you that way again, 
When the field shall be riper in beauty, 

Enriched by the blood of the slain : 
Would you see if the grasses are growing 

On the grave of my boy ? Will you see 
If a flower, e'en the smallest, is blowing, 

And pluck it, and send it to me ? 



58 The Color-Sergeant. 

Don't think, in my grief, I 'm complaining ; 

I gave him, God took him, — 't is right •, 
And the cry of his mother remaining 

Shall strengthen his comrades in fight. 
Not for vengeance, to-day, in my weeping, 

Goes my prayer to the Infinite Throne ; 
God pity the foe when he 's reaping 

The harvest of what he has sown ! 

Tell his comrades these words of his mother : 

All over the wide land to-day 
The Rachels, who weep with each other, 

Together in agony pray. 
They know, in their great tribulation, 

By the blood of their children outpoured, 
We shall smite down the foes of the Nation 

In the terrible day of the Lord. 



"THE MARRIED STATE IS A STATE OF 
SORROW." 

p\EAR heart, what say you, is the proverb true, 
"^■"^ This German proverb of the olden time ? 
Or did some cynic, who had wed a shrew, 
Attempt the act to rue, 

By ringing out this simple, solemn rhyme : 
Live by thy self \ all will be well ; 

Who wed shall weep to-morrow ; 
And find too late that married state 
Is state of pain and sorrow. 

It is not true ! — how ready to deny 

This well-kept wisdom of five hundred years ; 

How dare you now to make such curt reply, — 

With laughter to deny 

That which to some most doleful truth appears. 



60 The Married State, a State of Sorrow. 

Nay, nay, you trifle ! 'T is no idle jest ; 

This is a proverb — do you heed it so ? 
And proverbs, they by some men are confessed 
Of simple truths the best ; 

Come read it o'er again, and clear and slow. 

Still doubting and denying, and with speech 

That 's less conclusive than that look of thine : 

Art thou by silence seeking to impeach 

The cynic \ by its reach 

Take in our life, and say, not true of mine ! 

'T is I that trifle ? Tell me how you know ! 

Ah, well you prove it — give me then your hand : 
Do you remember now the years ago, 
And when I held it so, 

While God's own servant forged the endless 
band ? 

And now your face, some say, is not so fair 
As on that morning of our marriage day ; 
And yester eve, the children in my hair 



The Married State, a State of Sorrow. 61 

Searched out the silver there, 

And laughed to think that I was growing gray. 



Wellnigh a score of years have gone their round 
Since we passed out to journey side by side ; 

And say, dear heart, have we not always found, 

Where faith and love abound, 

What else is needed will not be denied ? 

God's benediction was upon the rite, 

And God's dear mercies followed with the deed ; 
So e'en in days of darkness, when the night 
Was over long, and light 

Came slowly, we said not, whate'er our need, 
Live by thyself all will be well ; 

Who wed shall weep to-morrow ; 
And find too late that married state 
Is state of pain and sorrow. 



TO F. F. R. 



'"T^O-NIGHT, where gleam the stars benign 

Above the broad Catalpa-tree, 
O friend, I pledge thee in this wine, — 
The wine thou gavest me. 



br 



More generous, sunlight and the dew 
And winds that feed the autumn rain 

Ne'er nursed in vineyards, old or new, 
That crowd the slopes of Spain. 

The peasant throng with shout and dance 
This vintage gathered years ago : 

Nor dreamed what guest and circumstance 
Should quaff or mark its flow. 

It may have been at feast, where song 
And dance disturbed the fragrant air ; 



To R F. R. 63 

While noisy guests sat late and long, 
To pledge the bridal pair. 

Perhaps where met the proud and great, 

Their studied praises to bestow, 
On one who well had served the state 

In its convulsive throe. 

At kingly boards it may have passed, 

Where nobles sat with monarchs crowned ; 

When fulsome words the lie surpassed 
In which the toast was drowned. 

So too in homes, on festive days, — 
Those days that household joys restore, 

Perchance has graced life's common phrase 
When turned to Love's once more. 

With pledge at feast of bridal pair, 

At board of statesman, home, or king, 

I place as pledge beyond compare, 
That which I give and bring. 



64 To F F R. 

Not such as flattering lips bestow, — 
The idle word betricked with art : 

He honors most, as true men know, 
Who honors with the heart ! 

And shall not I, O friend, to thee 
For unrecorded deeds of thine 

Give thanks, as now I hold and see 
Thy gifts to me and mine ? 

And so, where gleam the stars benign 
Above the broad Catalpa-tree, 

I pledge again, but not in wine, — 
He who is friend to me ! 



LITTLE LUCY, AND THE SONG SHE SUNG. 

I. 

A LITTLE child, six summers old, — 
So thoughtful and so fair, 
There seemed about her pleasant ways 

A more than childish air, — 
Was sitting on a summer eve 

Beneath a spreading tree, 

Intent upon an ancient book 

That lay upon her knee. 

She turned each page with careful hand, 

And strained her sight to see, 
Until the drowsy shadows slept 

Upon the grassy lea ; 
Then closed the book, and upward looked, 

And straight began to sing 
5 



66 Little Lucy, and the Song She sung. 

A simple verse of hopeful love — 

This very childish thing : 
" While here below, how sweet to know 

His wondrous love and story ; 
And then, through grace, to see his face, 

And live with him in glory ! " 

n. 

That little child, one dreary night 

Of winter wind and storm, 
Was tossing on a weary couch 

Her weak and wasted form ; 
And in her pain, and in its pause, 

But clasped her hands in prayer — 
(Strange that we had no thoughts of heaven 

While hers were only there) — 

Until she said : cc O mother dear, 

How sad you seem to be ! 
Have you forgotten that he said 

4 Let children come to me ' ? 
Dear mother, bring the blessed Book, — 

Come, mother, let us sing." 






Little Lucy, and the Song She sung. 67 

And then again, with faltering tongue, 

She sung that childish thing : 
" While here below, how sweet to know 

His wondrous love and story ; 
And then, through grace, to see his face, 

And live with him in glory ! " 

in. 

Underneath a spreading tree 

A narrow mound is seen, 
Which first was covered by the snow, 

Then blossomed into green ; 
Here first I heard that childish voice 

That sings on earth no more ; 
In heaven it hath a richer tone, 

And sweeter than before : 
" For those who know his love below " — 

So runs the wondrous story — 
" In heaven, through grace, shall see his face 

And dwell with him in glory ! " 



THE ABSENT LORD. 

"]\/TY Lord was taken from me: day by day 

My heart grew sadder with the sins it bore. 
While many dulcet voices came to say, 

Why weepest thou ? If he come back no more, 
Give o'er thy sorrow, needless at the best. 
So I their call obeyed, 

And knew not, yet would know where he was 
laid, 
And could not be at rest. 

I was a wanderer thence from place to place ; 

I questioned some who sat within the gate, 
And saw the play of the incredulous face ; 

On others scanned the look of scorn and hate. 
My heart grew hard, — I say not how or why, — 

While oft my search was stayed ; 






The Absent Lord. 69 

And then I cared not where my Master laid, 
Or would his name deny. 

Thus in the day I could my loss forget, 

Or he was crowded from me by the press ; 
At night, my soul with many fears beset, 

Would oft with tears its shame and loss confess, 

And sick, alone, afraid, 

Cry out, O world, tell where my Lord is laid, 
Or let me love thee less. 

One time I thought on Peter in the hall, 

And soon of Mary waiting at the grave ; 
Then of the smiting of the threat'ning Saul, — 

And was not Jesus near to help and save ? 
O light that came, and why the long delay ? 

I had my Lord conveyed 

Afar, forgetting where he had been laid, 
And gone upon my way. 

My way, and he had risen to follow me, — 
Me all unworthy, ne'er by him forgot \ 



7o 



The Absent Lord. 



O wondrous love, that could so patient be ! 

My eyes were holden that I knew him not ! 
Peace came at last, as to the twain that day 

Who from Jerusalem strayed ; 

And while they talked of where he had been laid, 
He met them by the way ! 



HYMN FOR THE DEDICATION OF A 
CHURCH. 

TN every place, O Sovereign Lord, 

On ocean, plain, and mountain-side, 
Thy Name, for man, thou dost record, 
The promise with him to abide. 

Where mortal eye hath never seen, 
Where foot of man hath never trod, 

Thy kingly messengers have been, 
And left the impress of their God. 

Here, Lord, thy grander work begin, 
Where thy dear love recorded stands ; 

Come now, and take, and enter in 
This temple built by willing hands. 



72 Hymn for the Dedication of a Church. 

Thy name record, thy grace unfold ; 

Here dwell this day, and evermore \ 
Let us, and those to come, behold 

Thy glory, and as ne'er before. 

We plead thy promise free and great ; 

Accept the gift, and make it thine : 
O Holy Ghost, for thee we wait 

To make our human work divine ! 



SOJOURNING, AS AT AN INN. 

T LOOK abroad upon the verdant fields, 
•*• The song of birds is on the summer air; 
Within, how many a treasure something yields, 
To bless my life and round the edge of care; 
And yet the earth and air, 
All that seems good and fair, 
That still is mine or for a time hath been. 
Now teach me I am but a pilgrim here, 
Without a home, and dwelling at an inn. 

Not always has the outlook been so clear : 

There have been days when stormy gusts went 
by,- 
Nights when my wearied heart was full of fear, 
And God seemed farther off than stars and sky; 
Yet then, when grief was nigh, 
My soul could sometimes cry 



74 Sojourning, as at mi Inn. 

Out of the depths of sorrow and of sin, 
That at the worst I was but pilgrim here, 
With home beyond, while dwelling at an inn. 

i 

Now I complain not of this life of mine, 

I less of shade have had than of the sun ; 
The gracious Father, with a hand divine, 

Has crowned with mercies his unworthy one ; 
My cup has overrun, 
And I, his will undone, 
Have changed his countless blessings into sin, 
As I forgot I was but pilgrim here, 

Homeless at best, and dwelling at an inn. 

Look on me, Lord ! Have I not need to pray 

That this fair world, that gives so much to me, 
Serve not to lead my steps so far astray 
That at the end I stand afar from thee ? 
Dear Lord, let this not be; 
Nay, rather let me see 
Beyond this life my happiest days begin ; 



Sojourning, as at an Inn. 75 

And singing on my way, a pilgrim here, 
Rejoice that I am dwelling at an inn. 

Dear Son of God ! by whom the world was made, 
Yet homeless — had not where to lay thy head, 
(Not e'en by kindred was thy body laid 

In Joseph's tomb, thou Lord of quick and dead !) 
By thy example led, 
Of me may it be said, 
When I shall rest and perfect peace begin, 
He lived as one who was a pilgrim here, 

And found his home while dwelling at an inn. 



OUR BABY. 



/^\F all the darling children 

^^^ That e'er a household blessed, 

We place our baby for compare 

With the fairest and the best ; 
She came when last the violets 

Dropped from the hand of Spring ; 
When on the trees the blossoms hung- 
Those cups of odorous incense swung — 

When dainty robins sing. 

How glowed the early morning 

After a night of rain, 
When she possessed our waiting hearts 

To go not out again ; 






Our Baby. 77 

"Dear Lord," we said, with thankful speech, 

" Grant we may love thee more 
For this new blessing in a cup 

That was so full before ! " 

September, 1858. 



II. 



This year, before the violets 

Had heralded the Spring, 
And not a leaf was on the trees, 

Nor robin here to sing, 
An angel came one solemn night, 

Heaven's glory to bestow, 
And take our darling from our sight : 
What could we, Lord, at morning light, 

But weep, and let her go ! 

How dark the day that followed 

That dreary night of pain ; 
Those eyes now closed, and never more 

To open here again ! 



78 Our Baby. 

" Dear Lord/' we said, with broken speech, 
cc Grant we may love thee more 

For this new jewel in the crown 
Where we had two before ! " 

September, i860. 



THE WILD FLOWER. 

yT grew upon a sloping bank, 
-*• Beside a common stone; 
There in the starry silence drank 
The dews of heaven alone. 

Uncared for, and by some unseen, 

It lived serenely there, 
To grace one little spot of green, 

And bless the common air. 

The idle dreamer passing by 
No gladness from it caught ; 

It could not fill his restless eye, 
Or waken pleasant thought. 

So may I pass my humble lot, 
Content to be unknown, 

If thus from me some hidden spot 
A touch of sweetness own. 



SONG. 

T KNOW where by life's wayside 

A There is a crystal spring, 

Where sometimes I sit down and sigh, 

But oftener sit and sing ; 
None tarry there so long as I, 

Or there so frequent be, 
For it for none does outward flow 

As it flows out to me. 

In th' dryest days of Summer 

The current sweeps along, 
And Winter brings no ice to freeze 

The measure of its song ; 
So, like a good thought of the soul, 

That wanders out to bless, 
It every day but deeper grows, 

Instead of growing less ! 



Song. 

Ask you where by life's wayside, 

On what enchanted ground, 
This crystal spring, so sweet, so rare, 

Is ever to be found ? 
Look down into your heart, my love, 

As I into your eyes, 
And while I trace the outward flow. 

You may behold the rise. 



THE LOVING MASTER. 

AND the same night in which he was betrayed^ 
(So runs the record of that Feast of thine,) 
While the Eleven joyous, yet afraid, 

Scarce knew the meaning of the bread and wine, 
And on the Other heavy guilt was laid, 

Nor fear nor knowledge touched thy love divine. 
What if thy coming death the hour oppressed, 

No human grief should on the service wait, 

Or guilt of one then sadden or abate 
The grace and peace that served the loyal guest. 
Dear, patient Lord, if at thy Table here 

I sit unworthy, let not this withhold 
Thy Love from any : unto all appear, 

O Christ, as to thy faithful ones of old ! 



THE HAPPY PILGRIM. 



A PILGRIM with his lot content, 
Nor seeking rest below, 
Now to the land that lies beyond 

With steadfast heart I go. 
O foolish world, I ask no more 

Thy willing guest to be ; 
Mine is the rich and heavenly feast, 
And Jesus sups with me. 

ii. 

Full often where I take my way 
Are pastures green and fair, 

And living waters, cool and sweet, 
Which all the pilgrims share. 

Oh, never has the day seemed long, 
The night proved drear or cold, 



84 The Happy Pilgrim. 

So that I heard his loving voice, 
Or rested in the fold ! 



in. 

You wonder at the songs I sing, 

That so my face should shine ; 
Remember, friends, that I am His, 

And He forever mine : 
So I a pilgrim through the world 

A princely portion share, 
While He makes every burden light, 

Or doth the burden bear ! 

IV. 

Come then, and as a pilgrim gain 

A bliss unknown before ; 
Though crowded is the way and strait, 

There still is room for more : 
What if the way be rough to-day, 

The night prove drear or cold, 
It shall not change his loving voice, 

Or shut us from the fold ! 



A HOUSEHOLD LAiMENTATION. 

Ty OOMj Mother Earth, upon thy breast for this 

•**^ young child of ours j 

Give her a quiet resting-place among thy buds and 

flowers -, 
Oh, take her gently from our arms unto thy silent 

fold, 
For she is calmly beautiful, and scarcely two years 

old, 
And ever since she breathed on us hath tender 

nursing known : 
No wonder that with aching hearts we leave her 

here alone. 

How we shall miss the roguish glee, the ever merry 

voice, 
That in the darkest, dreariest day would make us 

to rejoice ! 



86 A Household Lamentation. 

How sweet was every morning kiss, each parting 

for the night, 
Her lisping words, that on us fell as gently as the 

light ! 
But Death came softly to the spot where she was 

wont to rest, 
And bade us take her from our home and lay her 

on thy breast. 

So, Mother, thou hast one child more, and we a 
darling less ; 

One sunny spot in all our hearts seems now a 
wilderness, 

From which the warm light of the Spring has wan- 
dered swift and far, 

And nothing there of radiance left but Memory's 
solemn star ; 

We gaze a moment on its light, then sadly turn 
aside, 

As though we now had none to love, and all with 
her had died. 



A Household Lamentation. 87 

Mother, we know we should rejoice that she has 

gone before — 
Gone where the withering hand of Death shall never 

touch her more, 
Up to the clime of sinless souls, a golden harp to 

bear, 
A.nd join the everlasting song of singing children 

there \ 
Yet, when we think how dear she was to us in 

her brief stay, 
We can but weep that one so sweet so early passed 

away. 



A SUNBEAM AND A SHADOW. 



T HEAR a shout of merriment, 

A laughing boy I see ; 

Two little feet the carpet press, 

And bring the child to me. 

u. 

Two little arms are round my neck, 
Two feet upon my knee ; 

How fall the kisses on my cheek ! 
How sweet they are to me ! 

in. 

That merry shout no more I hear, 
No laughing child I see ; 

No little arms are round my neck, 
Or feet upon my knee. 



A Sunbeam and a Shadow. 89 



IV. 



No kisses drop upon my cheek, — 
Those lips are sealed to me ; 

Dear Lord, how could I give him up 
To any but to thee ? 



NO ROOM FOR HIM. 

/ I V HE children heard me read again the story 
•*• Of our dear Lord's coming to the earth ; 
How he gave up his home of heavenly glory, 

To bear the sorrows of our mortal birth, — 
Came, too, in manner so unknown, so lowly, 

Of parentage to poverty akin, 
That no one seemed to think that he was holy, 

No room waiting for him at the inn. 

They could not comprehend this strange rejection, 

This ignorance of him who came to save ; 
And wondered why the Star, with sure direction, 

Knowledge only to the Wise Men gave : 
When all the world for want of him was dying, — 

Even little children full of sin ; — 
Their only Saviour with the cattle lying, 

No one saying, Come into the inn ! 



No Room for Him. 9 i 

Ah, I could see their young hearts fondly turning 
Toward the Christ rejected by the Jews : 

Heavenly Master, all of life discerning, 
Shall these ever thy dear love refuse ? 

They might have known, said they, that it was "Jesus , 
And the way they treated him a sin ; 

And, Father, don't you think that God, who sees us, 
Knows we would have told him to come in ? 

Out of the mouths of babes, O Sovereign Teacher, 

Thou dost praise to thy great name ordain ; 
The child unto the Father comes as preacher, 

And the message makes the duty plain : 
The young heart at the manger overfloweth, 

Counts thy treatment by the Jews as sin ; 
Nor dreams that one who all thy suffering knoweth, 

Ever said he would not let thee in. 

Thou Son of Mary, when at Bethlehem lying, 
Few there were thy kingly nature knew ; 

And the wretched world, thy name denying, 
Pierced thy soul with sorrows through and 
through. 



92 No Room for Him. 

No wonder that the ignorant, unbelieving, 
Mocked alike thy coming and thy kin ; 

Oh marvel now that one thy grace receiving 
Hath no room, or fails to ask thee in ! 

No room for thee, though knowing all thy story, 

From manger-bed to cross on Calvary \ 
Content with darkness that shuts out the glory, 

They behold who watch and dwell with thee ; 
Sleep, little children, who to-night have taught me 

More than learned preacher of my sin ; 
For lo ! the risen Christ again has sought me, 

Hath come back, and I have let him in ! 



MASTER, IS IT I ? 

Ti /TY Master, at that board I sat to-day, 

"^ -*• Whereon the riches of thy love are spread, — 

The blood-red wine, the white and broken 
bread, — 
To feast thy poor disciples by the way. 
And as I sat with very many there, 

Methought I heard thy voice unto me say, 
As unto those who at Jerusalem were, 

There is among you one who shall betray ! 
When first I heard, I thanked thee I was clear 

Of such intent ; but soon my depth of sin, 
My lack of love, and weakness did appear, 

To show what faithless follower I had been ; 
And filled with fear I cried, as now I cry, 
Have mercy, Master : Master, is it I ? 



TRUST ABSOLUTE. 

T)AUSE, O my soul, and here thy life review ! 
A God honors not such service, poor and mean ; 
Shalt thou to all the world be steadfast, true, 

And in thy sorrows only on him lean ? 
Thou canst not wander thus, as suits thy will, 

And have thy way, and cold and selfish be, — 
Denying thus his name, while claiming still 

His gracious help, when so it pleases thee : 
Nay, not so ; 
If thou thy Lord wouldst know, 

No more his right dispute ; 

Be thy trust absolute 
If daily thou in grace and truth wouldst grow. 

Tell me, O soul, as here I question thee, 
If now thy gains count equal to the loss ? 



Trust Absolute. 95 

Look o'er the world : Ah, has it brought to thee 
From mine or mart that which outweighs the 
cross ? — 
His cross, and he thy Lord, as Lord of all, 

Whose great heart o'er thee yearns, while even 
here 
These words of sweetest pity on thee fall, — 
My perfect love can cast out every fear. 
Even so ; 
And thou this love mayst know, 
This wondrous gain compute ; 
Be thy trust absolute, 
And evermore in grace and knowledge grow. 

Call'st thou the service hard — the recompense 

Of th' reward unworthy ? Not of old 
So seemed it to thee. Know ye not from whence 

This change and loss ? Only thyself behold ! 
Ye sought out other masters than thy Lord, 

And would have other loves though losing him, 
Unconscious of thy loss and his reward : 

Ah, who can follow when the eyes are dim ! 
Was 't not so ? 



96 Trust Absolute. 

Thy Lord how could ye know- 
When thou wast blind and mute ? 
Be thy trust absolute 

If daily thou in grace and truth wouldst grow! 

Comes there not now a vision of long ago ? 

Thou art as Jacob wrestling at the day ; 
Let not the angel silent from thee go, — 

Send thou the world, and not the Lord, away ! 
Lovest thou me, and more than these ? Such word 

He spake to Peter. Answer as did he 
Out of the depths, — Thou knowest all things, 
Lord — 

That with my better self I do love thee ! 
Loving so, 
Hence let me always know 

Thy will, my own be mute ; 

And with trust absolute, 
By thy dear help in grace and knowledge grow ! 



LONGINGS. 

\T 7EARY, Lord, of struggling here 

* * With this constant doubt and fear, 
Burdened by the pains I bear, 
And the trials I must share, — 
Help me, Lord, again to flee 
To the rest that 's found in thee. 

Weakened by this wayward will 

Which controls, yet cheats me still; 

Seeking something undefined 

With an earnest, darkened mind, — 

Help me, Lord, again to flee 

To the light that breaks from thee. 

Fettered by this earthly scope 
In the reach and aim of hope, 

7 



98 Longings, 

Fixing thought in narrow bound 
Where no living truth is found, — 
Help me, Lord, again to flee 
To the hope that 's fixed in thee. 

Fettered, burdened, wearied, weak, 
Lord, thy grace again I seek ; 
Turn, oh turn me not away, — 
Help me, Lord, to watch and pray, 
That I never more may flee 
From the rest that's found in thee. 



"THAT PASSETH UNDERSTANDING. 1 ' 

/^\ THOU eternal and all-sovereign One, 

^"^ By whom the worlds with all they hold were 

made, — 
The Father's well-beloved, and the Son, 

To whom coequal honor shall be paid ! 
One word of thine, and e'en the mightiest hills 

Would shake and fall, the ocean cease its roar, 
And all that comforts or with pleasure fills 
The heart of man, be seen and felt no more ! 
How can I comprehend 
That thou wilt be my friend ? 
I know, O Lord, that I have need of thee, — 
But what am I that thou art wanting me ? 

The stars that bless the highway of the night, 
The sun, whose steady glory fills the day, 



ioo " That Passeth Understanding" 

And hosts of angels, constant in their flight, 
With all material things thy will obey. 

Of these not one in all their courses fail, — 
They ever for thy service on thee wait -> 

While all combined powers could not prevail 
To shake thy kingdom, which alone is great : 
Lord, can I comprehend 
That thou shouldst be my friend ? 
I know, O Lord, that I have need of thee, — 
But what am I that thou art wanting me ? 

I am as but the balance dust — a mote 

Which floats upon the early morning air, 
That e'en a mortal king would fail to note, 

Or brush aside without a thought or care, — 
A passing ripple on the sandy shore, 

That rolls and breaks, but has no power to 
stay, — 
Or, at my best, one who might be no more, 
With few to miss him in the common way : 
How can I comprehend 
That thou wilt be my friend ? 



" That Passeth Understanding." 101 

I know, O Lord, that I have need of thee, — 
But what am I that thou art wanting me ? 

O Lord, I thank thee that thou hast revealed 
Such love, and honor put on one so mean ; 

Thy grace the hidden mystery hath unsealed, 
I, all unworthy, have thy glory seen ! 

And yet the wonder grows no less that I 

May call thee Master, and thy dear name bear ; 

Or that thou, Lord, for such as me shouldst die, 
And ever have me in thy loving care : 
I cannot comprehend, 
Yet know thou art my friend, 
As that I evermore have need of thee, — 
But what am I that thou art wanting me r 



THE END. 









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